


Happiness is the Same Price as Red Bottoms

by badgirlcarly



Category: Thunderheart (1992)
Genre: Catharsis, M/M, Over the Knee, Paddling, Spanking, Therapeutic spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-03-23
Packaged: 2020-12-17 08:57:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21051728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badgirlcarly/pseuds/badgirlcarly
Summary: Fifteen minutes ago, Ray had found Walter in the kitchen putting away groceries, and had done something very stupid.“I need a spanking,” he mumbled.





	Happiness is the Same Price as Red Bottoms

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I know what Louboutins are.

  
Ray lay over Walter's lap, his pants and undershorts around his ankles, his head down and his bare butt up. It was a familiar position, and, frankly, overdue. 

Walter had his left hand at the small of Ray's back, anchoring him in place. In his right hand, he held a small paddle, one he'd carved himself out of a plank of cherry wood. He raised the paddle high, then smacked it down across Ray's bare ass, _hard_. Ray cried out softly as the fresh pain was drilled into his flesh, as a cruel fire burned over his skin. He buried his face in the couch cushions and tried not to kick, though he wanted to. He wanted to kick and scream and beg for the spanking to end. Walter had infinite patience for that, though, and would just wait until Ray's tantrum was over and then give him the rest of his punishment like there had been no interruption. 

Fifteen minutes ago, Ray had found Walter in the kitchen putting away groceries, and had done something very stupid. 

“I need a spanking,” he mumbled. 

Walter didn't look away from his task. He lined up jars and cans neatly in the cupboards. “You been a bad boy?” he asked. 

“No, sir,” Ray said. “I just… I'm getting itchy.”

Walter nodded slowly. He knew what Ray meant. He got restless, and as much as he hated being spanked, a tanned hide did settle him. 

“Lemme finish this,” Walter said, “then I'll blister your bottom for you.”

And Ray had waited anxiously, his molars grinding, until Walter had grabbed him by the arm, marched him into the living room, and started barking orders. Fetch the paddle. Bare your butt. Over my knee, boy, and quick, now. 

The paddle slapped down at the juncture of Ray's ass and his right thigh, a mighty wallop with a burning sting, and Ray yelped. Walter didn't slow down his quick pace one bit, landing smack after smack seconds apart, all over Ray's presented ass and thighs. He patterned the blows expertly, so just as one spot was cooling off, a new smack reignited the pain. Ray's butt burned, and the pain sunk deep into the muscle, like a finger pressing on a bruise. 

The pain was one thing. Then there was being bent, bare assed, over Walter's knee. Ray always blushed when he thought about it, but he actually _liked_ going across Walter's lap. He felt comfortably contained, childish, yes, but protected and cared for. He didn't even mind knowing that Walter enjoyed spanking him, because he knew he did it for his own good, because he loved him and wanted him to feel better, to be better. 

It was starting to get hard to be still. Ray let himself cry out each time the paddle cracked against his flesh, and he clutched the couch cushions with shaking fists. He buried his face in the cushion, trying to hold back the tears that signaled he'd been pushed over the edge. 

Like he could read his mind, Walter said, “Let it out, baby.”

Tears coursed down Ray's face. He whined and wailed and kicked his legs. “Please,” he moaned. “Please stop, I'll be good, I promise I'll be good.”

The paddle came down harder and faster. “Oh yeah?” Walter asked, slightly breathless. “You're not gonna act out cuz you're too wound up?” 

“No, sir, I promise!”

Slap, slap, slap, slap, slap! “You're not gonna be putting any holes in the wall, or talking back to me?” 

Ray groaned. His ass was on fire. “No, sir, _pleeeeeeease_.”

Ray held his breath. Listened to the staccato sound of the paddle slapping against his ass. He knew what Walter wasn't saying: Ray had initiated the spanking, but only Walter could put an end to it. He decided when Ray had had enough. 

Walter set the paddle down. Ray's heart jumped a little, but then Walter's hands were on the sore, swollen flesh of Ray's backside. Walter squeezed the raw globes of Ray's ass, and Ray groaned, long and low, as the pain throbbed throughout him. Walter rubbed Ray's seat with his palm, and then gave him a few stinging smacks with the outside of his palm. 

“All right,” he said, “that's enough for now. But I'm keeping an eye on you, and if I think you're getting wound up again, you'll be right back over my knee with your britches down, hear?” 

“Yes, sir,” Ray said eagerly. 

“All right, then,” Walter said, and he pulled Ray up into his arms. He kissed him, his mouth, his cheek, holding him gently in a way that kept the weight off Ray's punished backside. He brushed his palm over Ray's red ass lightly, fondly. 

“You feeling better?” he asked. 

“Yes, sir,” Ray said. 

Walter chuckled. “Happiness is the same price as a red bottom,” he said, and kissed Ray again, kissed him dizzy.  



End file.
